


Just Business

by concavepatterns



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Fake Marriage, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Jane Foster: unstoppable STEM warrior, Odin's A+ Parenting, Practice Kissing, Unresolved Sexual Tension, broke science ladies, but awesome science ladies all the same
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-29
Updated: 2018-01-04
Packaged: 2018-10-12 17:50:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 17,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10496364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/concavepatterns/pseuds/concavepatterns
Summary: Jane Foster will do anything for the sake of science, even if it means roping herself and Darcy into a rather unusual bargain with two wealthy brothers. Maybe this wasn't one of her brighter ideas...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here it is!! The fake marriage fic I've been attempting to write for ages. Thanks to all the wonderful tumblr buddies who convinced me to post this even though updates of later chapters will be sporadic. The first five are fully written though, so you can expect weekly updates for a little while. I hope you like it!

"But - yes sir, I understand, I just..." Jane tried to conceal a sigh as she adjusted the phone that was currently wedged between her shoulder and her ear. "Okay, fine. Thank you for your time." She hung up with a quick jab of her thumb before crossing another name off the long hand-written list laid out on the table before her.

"No luck?" Darcy asked sympathetically as she crossed the narrow galley kitchen, setting a mug of coffee in front of the astrophysicist. Black, with barely half a teaspoon of sugar, just the way Jane liked it. Darcy didn’t know how Jane could drink the stuff without her taste buds shriveling up and crying tears of immense, unending sorrow.

"No." Jane didn’t bother hiding her disappointed sigh this time as she curled her palms around the mug, shoulders drooping in defeat. "That was the last name on my list, too."

"Why won't they give you the grant? I thought they loved your research paper." Darcy frowned, slipping into the seat opposite Jane at their tiny, cramped kitchen table.

Jane's lips twisted bitterly. "Oh, they did. Until they found out that Doctor Foster is a miss and not a mister."

"Assholes," Darcy muttered, lifting her own mug and taking a satisfying sip (not black and loaded with way more than a freaking microscopic pinch of sugar, thank you very much).

“Yep.” Popping the ‘p’, Jane planted her elbow on the table, chin resting in her hand as she stared off into space, thoughtful.

Well aware of the fact that her friend-slash-boss could get lost in her head like that for a seriously impressive chunk of time, Darcy took the opportunity to sneak a hand across the table and steal Jane’s pencil before slouching comfortably in her seat and diving back into the New York Times crossword she’d abandoned earlier that morning.

Half way through carefully penciling ‘amalgamation’ into 26 across (damn, she was good), Jane suddenly spoke again.

"We need a lab," she announced. 

"Well,” Darcy said, not looking up as she turned her printed ‘o’ into a smiley face, “if we're naming things we'd like, I'll add ten thousand dollars and a monkey butler to that list.”

Jane rolled her eyes. "I'm serious, Darcy. We could do it ourselves, you know." She sat up a little straighter, eyes brightening in that excited way they did whenever she began formulating plans in her head. "All we really need is a proper space and the right equipment."

"Yeah, but both of those things cost money," Darcy pointed out, tapping the eraser of her pencil against the newspaper, "and in case you've forgotten, we have none."

"Trust me, I haven't forgotten." Jane grimaced, deliberately glancing around their small flat to emphasize her point.

It was all they could afford at the moment - mainly because it came to them rent-free. The flat belonged to Jane's father, a university professor who’d accepted a temporary position with Oxford and was currently spending the better part of the year teaching abroad. It was an opportunity he had rightfully jumped at, and when he’d left, he’d asked Jane to house-sit his tiny New York abode during his time away.

Despite the relief of only having to cover the costs of electricity and groceries, their budget was still stretched paper thin. Astrophysics was not a lucrative business; Jane had learned that the hard way fairly early on in her career, but passion kept her driving forward. Unfortunately, nothing could have prepared her for just how tough it was to make any decent headway in that field, especially as a woman.

Jane’s eyes traveled back down to the list of crossed-out names in front of her and she scowled at the paper. It made her look a bit like an angry kitten; the threat of sharp claws softened by the overall cuteness factor. Not that Darcy’d ever tell her that. She didn’t imagine the whole ‘you know your murder face? It’s actually pretty adorable’ conversation would be all that much appreciated.

"There has to be another way to get the funding,” Jane mused, absently drumming fingers over the side of her mug.

Darcy snorted, leaning back in her seat. "Doing what? Minimum wage isn't even gonna cover the half of it. Without your research grant, we're screwed. No normal job is going to give us the cash we need."

Jane groaned wearily, covering her eyes with a hand as she rubbed away the beginnings of a headache. "Yeah, I don't know. I haven't gotten that far yet."

Darcy went silent for a moment as she studied her friend, wishing there was something she could do, but their situation was looking pretty damn hopeless in her eyes. Lucky for them, making the best out of seemingly hopeless odds was kinda their thing. A superpower, almost. They were professional underdogs and it hadn’t failed them yet, so Darcy sent up a little prayer to the big dude in the sky, hoping they had enough of that luck left on their side to get them through one more tight spot.

"It's okay," she offered quietly, "we'll think of something, right? We always do." She lifted her mug in a small salute, causing Jane to smile.

"We always do," Jane confirmed, bringing up her own mug and clinking it against Darcy's.

 

* * *

 

 

"Loki?"

"What?” His response was sharp with irritation as Loki lifted his eyes from the book he’d been perusing, finding his brother standing awkwardly in the doorway of the sitting room.

"I normally wouldn't disturb you, but this is urgent," Thor replied. "Father wishes to see us."

Did he now? Their father was never one to make social calls.

With his interest piqued, Loki set aside his book, standing to brush a hand down the front of his shirt and smoothing out any creases that may have formed in the expensive black material.

"Let's get on with it then."

Thor nodded, leading the way down the wide, formal staircase towards the main level of the house.

"What do you expect he wants?" Thor asked conspiratorially as they make their way towards the den that Odin utilized as a personal office.

Loki blinked at him, slightly taken aback by the question. "You don't know?"

Thor shook his head. "He has not told me."

Well, wasn’t that odd. Typically Odin did not hesitate to share any and all information with his eldest son. He was grooming Thor to be his successor after all, a point that still held a faint sting whenever Loki spared it any thought. Whatever news their father meant to share, it must have been extraordinarily important if he was keeping Thor in the dark.

"I suppose we will find out soon enough," Loki murmured as they turned down the hallway, approaching the den.

Thor made a noise of agreement as they came to a halt in front of the half-opened office door. He tapped on it with his knuckles, calling out a short greeting of, "Father?"

"Come in, the both of you. Sit." Odin motioned them inside before resuming his place behind the large mahogany desk that sat adjacent to the row of tall windows lining the far wall.

As a child, Loki had always found the room rather intimidating with its collection of dark wooden accents and ostentatious furniture. Even now he felt a lingering discomfort; a subtle, irritated itch beneath his skin as he dropped down into a chair, keeping his face neutral and feigning disinterest.

In contrast, Thor was his direct opposite. He leaned forward in his seat with obvious curiosity, elbows braced on his knees as he waited for Odin to speak.

"I have called you here out of increasing concern," Odin began. "As you know, I grow older."

"You don't say," Loki muttered under his breath, causing Thor to lean over and not-so-discreetly elbow him in the ribs. He never was a master of tact nor subtleties, and Loki wondered yet again why their father would choose to pass his position to someone who possessed so little restraint and finesse.

The comment seemed to go unheard by Odin though as he continued, "I must soon step aside and pass over our business dealings - and more importantly, our family name - to you, my sons." 

Thor nodded soberly. "We will do our best to carry on your legacy, Father. I swear to it."

"I have no doubt of that," Odin replied. "You have both proven yourselves to be quite adept in the handling of business transactions. What troubles me is something of a more...personal nature. We have a public image to uphold. A reputation that would irreparably tarnish both our name and fortune should it ever be damaged. I cannot allow that to happen."

Loki lifted an inquiring eyebrow. "How are you so certain that we will ruin this precious reputation of yours? You just acknowledged that we are proficient businessmen."

Rather than answering the question directly, Odin turned his attention to Thor. Loki should have been used to it at this point, the quick dismissal shouldn’t have affected him as much as it did, and yet it never did seem to grow any easier to watch his father favour the eldest son.

He exhaled through his nose, turning his attention away to gaze out the nearest tall, arched window. The afternoon had clouded over, sun having retreated into hiding and rain pattering softly against the thick glass pane. Seemed fitting, really.

"You say you wish to carry on my legacy?" Odin spoke to Thor, voice drawing Loki back to the discussion at hand.

Thor, wearing an expression of apprehension, shifted in his seat. "Yes."

"Yes," Odin echoed, pausing as he directed a meaningful look to each of his sons in turn, "and yet you both remain unwed."

That was Odin's urgent news?  Concern over portraying the perfect public image of a traditional family?

Loki laughed; the sudden noise ringing cruel and humorless through the room as he shook his head with disbelief. " _That_ is your cause for alarm? I should have known." With that as the final straw shattering the remains of his patience, he pushed himself out of his seat and stalked towards the door, hot anger gathering in his chest. He’d had enough. Enough of this conversation, this room, this family.

" _Loki_ ," Odin spoke, and as much as he didn’t want to, Loki faltered, caught between desk and doorway. "Do not walk away from me just yet. You will wish to hear all of what I have to say," Odin promised.

Loki made a noise that suggested he found that particular statement to be utter rubbish, but nonetheless he turned back to face his father, leaning a shoulder against the wall.  "Fine,” he spoke tightly, temper controlled but begging to be released. “Do carry on.”

"There are a number of legalities I must bring to your attention before I am able to so much as consider stepping down from my position," Odin explained. "You are both aware that you are to receive the full sum of your trust funds upon your thirtieth birthdays?"

Thor swallowed roughly. "I am aware."

"And you are now in your twenty-ninth year," Odin added.

"I am aware, too, of that," he said quietly, looking down at his hands.

From his position by the doorway, Loki snorted. "All of this," he swept his arm in a grand gesture encompassing the room around them, "simply to state that Thor must take a wife?"

"Not only Thor," Odin said, looking to Loki with a heavy, significant expression.

Loki's mouth went dry. "That's absurd. I have not yet reached the necessary age," he protested.

"But you are close enough to cause concern," Odin countered. He laid his hands on the desk, softening his tone. "It is a matter I have no control over," he said. "These stipulations are directly written into the instructions for the allocation of the funds."

"Then call the lawyers," Loki demanded. "Have them change it."

Odin shook his head. "The funds cannot be tampered with. You may only be granted access by meeting the set conditions."

"Then why in hell's name did you put such an utterly stupid requirement in place?" Loki snapped as he stepped towards Odin's desk, fists clenched hard at his sides.

"It is tradition." Odin met Loki's loud tone with one of his own, standing to meet him eye to eye. "My father and his father before him each passed down their fortunes in such a manner. You would have me disrespect them?"

"Yes," Loki said rudely. "Your so-called _tradition_ ,” he very nearly sneered the word, “is foolish and antiquated."

"It does seem a bit outdated," Thor put in. 

"Your complaints are duly noted, but they will do little good." Odin returned to his chair, sitting heavily in a way that gave away his increasing weariness with the topic at hand. "What's done is done,” he concluded with a note of heavy, ominous finality in his tone. “Find yourselves wives or the future of the Odinson fortune ends here."

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will call this 'Chapter Two: an Ode to Jane' because it was written shortly after Marvel confirmed that she wouldn't be back for Ragnarok, when my indignant fury was at peak levels. I've also been reading Wonder Women by Sam Maggs and the number of those biographies that end with 'then a man took all the credit' are annoying the crap out of me, so this chapter is basically just one giant love letter to science ladies. Plus Thor. Because he cute.

 

 

Eyeing the endless wall of cereal spread out before her, Jane chewed her lip, shifting her shopping basket to the other arm as her eyes systematically scanned the line, comparing price tags.

Why did it all have to be so damned expensive?

With a grimace, she finally grabbed a box of the cheapest off-brand rice puffs she could find, tossing it in her basket before moving on to tackle the next issue: overpriced dairy.

_Something will come along_ , she told herself firmly, snatching up a carton of milk and continuing to wind her way through the aisles. It would. It _had_ to.

She’d poured everything she had into her work and now she was so painfully close to completing her wormhole research, there was no way it could all end here. Her paper on The Foster Theory (so she wasn’t the most clever with names; Darcy would fix that part later) was nearly complete, primed and ready for publication, only she still had one last series of data tests left to carry out.

Tests that couldn’t be done without a fully functioning lab at her disposal.

And that was where her problem lied.

She felt her fingers curl into a fist at the thought of all the heated arguments she’d engaged in; all the patronizing speeches she’d endured as she’d tried to plead her case to every major university, government agency, and private foundation that offered up grants in her field.

It had all been for naught though, and every time they’d tell her the same thing: _you’ve done well, but this isn’t quite what we’re looking for_. They’d dismiss her with falsely sweet encouragements, like she’d just made a baking soda volcano for a grade school science fair and not devoted years of painstaking research, sweat, and sleepless nights to proving theories that could change _everything_.

She’d faced so much disappointment, rejection and flat-out sexist bullshit, brushing it off should have been second nature to her by now, but it never did seem to get any easier, Jane found. At least she had Darcy. Without her ridiculous jokes, constant support and unending enthusiasm, Jane didn’t know where she’d be right now. Maybe in a holding cell after her sanity finally snapped and the next condescending, disapproving bureaucrat to answer her grant request with a ‘no’ was met with a fist to the face.

As she passed by the bakery section, the warm, sugary smell of fresh cinnamon buns lured her in like a siren and she came to a sudden stop, waging an internal war. They were pricey, but they _were_ Darcy’s favourite, Jane thought, and dammit, the two of them deserved a little indulgence at that point.

Decisively slipping a package of the buns into her basket, she quickly headed for the checkout before the more practical side of her brain could raise any arguments against it.

The line was long but it moved fairly quickly, and as Jane unloaded her groceries onto the conveyor, she found herself unconsciously holding her breath, keeping a careful eye on the total as it crept up higher and higher.

“Fifty-three thirteen,” the young cashier read off, looking at her expectantly.

Jane fished her wallet out of her purse, feeling her face flame red as she dug around for some cash.

She already knew exactly how much she was going to find in there, but that didn’t do anything to lessen her embarrassment as she pulled out her only two twenties, flushing hot with discomfort as she handed them over.

Forty dollars and a smattering of change.

That was all she had.

Damn it. Damn it, damn it, damn it. She must have miscalculated exactly how many things she’d picked up.

“I...um,” she stuttered, praying the ground would open up and swallow her whole, “I’m going to have to put a few things back...”

“No need for that,” a voice spoke up behind her and Jane turned, staring with bewildered eyes as the man in line behind her stepped closer, settling a hand on her shoulder. “It’s fine. We’re together, actually. You can put the rest on my bill,” he said to the cashier, flashing a mega-watt grin that left the young girl looking just as flustered as Jane felt.

“You don’t have to do that,” she murmured, awkwardly stuffing her wallet back into her purse, avoiding eye contact because oh, he was gorgeous; tall and blond and broad, and his pity was more than she could bear right now.

“I don’t have to,” he agreed quietly, “but I would like to, if you’ll allow me.”

His mouth curved up into another warm smile and Jane could only stare up at him wordlessly. “Okay,” she breathed, voice coming out much fainter than she intended.

When he finally turned away to pay for his order and gather up his bags, a cool sweep of relief passed through her and she could nearly feel her shoulders sagging from it. That brief break from his eyes – which were an impossibly clear and vivid blue - was very much needed and Jane pulled in a breath, feeling some of her common sense slowly trickle back into her brain.

“Thank you for what you did in there. I’ll pay you back,” she promised as they left the store together, arms laden with bags.

Beside her, she watched the guy's head dip down, shaking off her gratitude. The light beginnings of a beard covered the line of his jaw and for one wild, fleeting moment, Jane wondered what it would feel like to scratch her fingers through it.

“Please, consider it a favor,” he replied.

Now it was Jane’s turn to shake her head. “I don’t like owing debts. Let me do something to properly thank you, at least.”

That made him pause, studying her with deep, thoughtful eyes, and there was something so open and exposing about it, Jane almost regretted making the offer until he said, “You could meet me for a drink tomorrow? Coffee, perhaps?”

Breathing much more easily now, a small smile broke out on Jane’s face. “I would like that,” she admitted, feeling a blush creep onto her cheeks as she tucked some loose hair behind her ear. “I can, um...do you have a phone on you?”

Transferring one bunch of bags to the other hand, he pulled his phone from his back pocket, passing it over for Jane to type her number into his contacts list before handing it back, blushing all over again when he read her name aloud.

“ _Jane_.” He glanced up from the screen to smile at her and the low, warm timbre of his voice was doing highly inappropriate things to her body considering that she was standing in a grocery store parking lot at 11 a.m.

“Yeah,” she answered a bit dumbly, not sure what else to say and it certainly wasn’t easy to focus on stringing together complete sentences with the way he was watching her.

He pocketed the phone, offering his own name in return. “Thor.”

_Thor._

It was a good name. Strong. Solid. It suited him.

She didn’t realize that she’d spoken that last part out loud until he laughed; a quiet, rumbling chuckle that made her stomach clench and fill with heat. “I will call you, Jane.”

“Okay,” she said, because apparently she was only capable of mostly one-word answers at that point.

With that Thor nodded, gathering up the rest of his bags and flashing one more smile in her direction before he headed off across the lot, leaving Jane mildly bewildered, clutching her cinnamon buns to her chest and wondering what the hell just happened.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for all the awesome feedback so far! Loki and Darcy will be meeting soon!

 

At the sound of a key turning in the lock, Darcy looked up from her place in the living room with a wide grin, watching as Jane came through the door, shrugging out of her jacket and dropping her keys into the small dish on the nearby side table.

“Soooo?” She shifted positions, sitting up on her knees and half-leaning over the edge of the couch as Jane pulled her boots off, lining them up next to where Darcy’s pair of battered sneakers were tossed off to the side of the entranceway.  “How was your date with Mr. Bangable? Did you fondle some kiwis? Do any quality control tests in the meat department?”

“Oh my God,” Jane groaned, “I thought you’d have run out of gross food metaphors by now.”

Darcy’s grin only widened. “Dude, you two literally met in a grocery store like some ridiculous Hallmark movie. So yeah, you can bet your ass I’m gonna milk that for all it’s worth. Heh. _Milk_.”

Making a face, Jane rounded the coffee table, plopping down into the empty space beside her.  

“He _is_ pretty amazing,” Jane admitted. “Smart, funny, kind...”

“Great butt,” Darcy added.

Jane eyed her with a slightly confused head tilt. “How do you know that?”

“You’re making your great butt face.”

“I don’t have a great butt face.”

Darcy snorted. “Please, I’ve watched enough Channing Tatum movies with you to feel completely confident when I say that you totally have a great butt face.” She crossed her legs, still grinning widely. “Did you touch it?”

“Darcy!” Jane’s face went three different shades of pink in rapid succession. “It was a _coffee date_.”

“So you’re telling me that you pulled out _Veronica_ and nothing happened?” she questioned skeptically, gesturing to Jane’s little black dress. Her only sexy dress of any colour, really.  Naturally Darcy had been the one to give it a name back when she’d first unearthed it from the depths of Jane’s closet, holding it up and raising her eyebrows with no small amount of surprise.

“Hey, don’t look so shocked. I dress up,” Jane had insisted. “Sometimes. Once.”

“Damn Janey, you’ve been holding out on me. Here I was thinking you’re a total Betty - girl next door, not afraid to get her hands dirty - but this,” Darcy had wiggled the hanger with a grin, “this totally makes you a Veronica. Stepping on men and looking good doing it.”

Now, Jane simply rolled her eyes in a move that was surprisingly similar to the look she’d given Darcy that fateful day of Veronica’s christening. Or maybe she just rolled her eyes a lot when it came to Darcy’s weirder comments. Darcy suspected it was that last one.

“Nothing happened. He was a complete gentleman,” Jane said. “We only talked. It was very...enlightening.”

“Enlightening?” Darcy scrunched up her nose. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Well, we got to talking about work...”

No surprise there, Darcy thought dryly. You could take the astrophysicist out of the lab – even dress her up in _Veronica_ for god’s sake - but you still couldn’t take the lab out of the astrophysicist. Of course, that whole saying would make a lot more sense if they actually _had_ a working lab to be in at the moment.

“I mentioned our lab issue,” Jane continued, as if reading Darcy’s mind, “and Thor said he might be able to help us out.”

“Really. Your grocery store beefcake can get us a lab,” Darcy deadpanned. “What’s the catch?”

Jane looked down at her lap, smoothing out the skirt of her dress and studiously avoiding Darcy’s eyes. “Why do you assume there’s a catch?” she asked, voice pitched a little higher than usual.

Darcy shook her head fondly. “You’re literally the worst liar ever,” she pointed out. “Fess up, lady. What did you get us into? Drug trafficking? Sexual favours?”

“Oh my god.” Jane let her head flop back against the sofa, looking up at the ceiling. “No. God, no. None of that. It’s just that...” she hesitated, cringing as she finished in a quick rush, “um...I might kind of have to marry him.”

Darcy blinked, opened her mouth, then closed it with a snap.

“The fuck?” she finally managed once her brain was somewhat operational again.

“I didn’t agree yet,” Jane promised, like that made all the difference. “I told him I’d talk to you first, but Darcy, I _have_ to do it. This could solve every single one of our problems.”

“The _fuck_?” Darcy said again, apparently stuck in a loop.

Jane didn’t seem to notice, too busy articulating with her hands as she excitedly explained, “So it turns out that Thor is an Odinson – like _the_ Odinsons – and his father is business partners with _Howard Stark_ – I know, right? How incredible is that? - and he said that Stark has all this extra operational lab space that’s just sitting there going unused, so he could call in a favour and get us in.”

“So he offered you a free fully equipped lab in exchange for you _marrying him_?” Darcy frowned. “Jane, you realize this sounds really fucking shady, right?”

“It’s not that bad. I mean, he’s getting something out of this too,” Jane said.

Darcy snorted, eyeing her pointedly. “Um, yeah he is. Have you seen your boobs in that dress?”

Jane flushed a little, but kept going. “What I meant was that it’s purely a business transaction. His father had this weird clause written into his trust fund, so Thor can’t access any of the money until he’s married.” She shrugged a shoulder, like the whole thing was easy-peasy. “He has a lab and needs a wife. I need a lab and can be a wife. It’s pretty straightforward, really.”

“Oh sure,” Darcy agreed sarcastically. “Nothing more straightforward than marrying a dude you’ve only been on one date with.”

“Obviously we’d need to get a little more familiar with each other first,” Jane conceded, “but we've already established that it would only be for a year. That’s plenty of time for me to finish my research while Thor gains access to his account. Then we discreetly divorce, go our separate ways, and everything goes back to normal.”

Still a bit bewildered, Darcy shook her head. “I can’t believe you’re even considering this.”

“Why not? It even takes care of our living situation too.” Jane lifted an arm, gesturing to their tiny, cluttered living room. “We can’t stay here forever.”

“It takes care of _your_ living situation,” Darcy corrected. “What am I gonna do? Move into Thor’s place with you? Live above the garage like the weird old spinster aunt?”

“He does have a brother,” Jane said with a teasing, suggestive lift of her eyebrows.

“Nope,” Darcy declared. “Nope nope nope. You can marry yourself off for the sake of science, but I’m not going anywhere near that shit.”

Jane smiled, slow and wide and bright. “You just said I can.”

Darcy blinked. “What? No, that’s not what I meant. I’m still not on board with this.”

“But you have to admit, it’s our best option.”

“It’s _an_ option –”

“See? You’re not ruling it out.”

“I’m not _not_ ruling – that’s not even – ugh,” Darcy shook her head, giving up. “You’re just gonna keep wearing me down until I say yes, aren’t you.”

“Yep.”

Darcy groaned, wilting dramatically against the arm of the couch.  “This is insane.”

“It’s perfectly logical.”

“In. Sane.”

Jane brought out the puppy eyes.

But Darcy was not going to crack, dammit. She was made of motherfreaking _granite_. Solid like a rock. A giant, immovable boulder of nope that would not be swayed by big, pleading eyes and six years of friendship and that painfully hopeful expression...

Crap.

Darcy sighed, rubbing a hand over her forehead. “One year you said, right?”

“One,” Jane confirmed.

“And he’s really a good guy?”

Jane blushed a little, confessing, “I really like him.”

Darcy bit her lip, wanting to keep arguing but the look on Jane’s face was kind of making her heart melt, and Jane _had_ always been an excellent judge of character, and maybe it wasn’t _that_ crazy of an idea if they’d be getting so many perks out of it...   

“ _Fiiiine_.” She drew out the word with a reluctant groan. “But I get to be there when you two sit down to hash out all the details. Someone’s gotta look out for you,” she added, bumping Jane with her elbow and smiling crookedly. “You’ve already proven that you make some seriously questionable decisions when I’m not there.” 

Jane lit up like it was Christmas, her birthday, and Pi day all rolled into one. “Thank you thank you thank you!” she exclaimed in a thrilled rush, springing up from the couch. “Oh my god, you’re the best. Seriously. I’m going to call Thor right now. I promise Darce, this is going to be so great. It’ll change everything for us.”

As she watched Jane flit around the room in all her happy excitement, trying to track down her constantly misplaced cell phone, Darcy’s smile slowly twisted into something a little flatter, more apprehensive. “Yeah,” she said to herself, flopping back onto the couch to stare up at the ceiling, “I don’t doubt that at all.”

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

His brother, Loki determined, had lost his bloody mind.

“Let me get this straight,” he spoke slowly, brow furrowed as he considered the absolute absurdity of Thor’s announcement. “You have found a woman who has agreed to marry you, solely for the sake of obtaining your trust find, and all that she asks in return is access to one of Stark’s old laboratories?”

“I have,” Thor said with an odd type of smile that appeared to be caught somewhere between pride and fondness for whomever that bizarre mystery woman was.

Skeptical, Loki crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back against the wooden grid of bookcases that wrapped around the walls of the library. “And you actually trust her when she says that she will play the role of the demure little housewife without complaint? What good is her word? She could exploit you in an instant, expose the entirety of this ridiculous plan, and if Father finds out-”

“Father will not find out,” Thor cut him off, sounding wholly sure of himself. “Trust when I say that I am more cunning than you give me credit for, brother.”

Trying to fight the amused twitch of his mouth, Loki rolled his eyes up to the ceiling. “I’ll believe it when I see it,” he muttered, making Thor laugh.

“Truly, I’m surprised that you have not already considered a similar arrangement of your own,” Thor admitted. “It seems like precisely the sort of clever plan you would have devised immediately.”

The compliment warmed a tiny corner deep in Loki’s chest and he struggled to ignore it, instead clearing his throat and tucking his hands into his pockets, mouth narrowing into a hard line. “I want nothing to do with the lot of it,” he said, quiet and bitter. “I refuse to be a puppet, jumping through hoops to please Father’s absurd demands.”

“But you do wish to distance yourself from him - from this life - do you not?” Thor mirrored him, arm leaned against the bookshelf as he raised both eyebrows questioningly. “Would you rather do so as a beggar on the streets or a man with the means to sustain himself?”

Caught off guard by that, Loki simply stared, briefly at a loss for words until he eventually offered, “That was surprisingly well said.”

“Did I not say that I possess some cunning?” Thor returned with a good-natured chuckle, grin broad and warm in a way that Loki wished he could resent, but instead it made his own expression crack into a faint hint of a smile. “I’ve invited Jane and her friend for dinner tomorrow,” Thor continued on a more serious note. “We plan to discuss the details of our arrangement then. Perhaps you could speak with her friend? She is already well aware of the agreement that exists between Jane and myself. If you were to offer her the proper incentive, she may be willing to assist you in a similar way.”

Smile fading, Loki could feel his face growing more and more sour by the second. “I am more than capable of finding a suitable wife without your meddling.”

“But a suitable _false_ wife,” Thor countered, “what of that? It’s not as if you can go advertising your needs to the public at large. We must both handle this as discreetly as possible, lest Father should discover our plan-”

“ _Our_ plan?” Loki interrupted. “When did this become _our_ plan?”

“- and so,” Thor continued, blindly ignoring that comment (he always did excel at effortlessly roping Loki into his foolhardy schemes), “logically Jane’s friend is the perfect candidate. It also provides a plausible story as to how the two of you met - mutual acquaintances through Jane and I.”

It was, unfortunately, a rather convincing argument. Loki could not fault him for that, as much as he may have wanted to.

Making a thoughtful noise, he rubbed a hand over his face and muttered, “Damn you.”

If possible, the force of Thor’s grin multiplied tenfold. “Ah, so you’ll do it?”

It felt a bit like being twelve again, Loki thought. Knowing that this could end no way but badly, and yet still squaring his shoulders and following his brother into the fray, regardless of the warning bells blaring in his head.

“I’ll do it,” he confirmed with a grimace, hating the plan already. “But first,” he pushed off the bookshelf, immediately striding over to their Father’s well-stocked bar cart tucked into the opposite corner of the room, “if I am to survive another one of your _brilliant_ ideas, I think we both require a drink.”

 

* * *

 

“Hooooly shit.” Darcy whistled, low and impressed as she and Jane started up the long, winding stone walkway of the Odinson estate. “Is that an in-ground pool _and_ a hot tub in the backyard? I think I changed my mind. I’m totally cool with living over the garage.”

Jane gave a strained laugh, fiddling nervously with the collar of her blouse for approximately the ninety-second time in the past two minutes.

The action had Darcy unconsciously wincing. It was such an obvious tell, she could only hope that Jane’s game face improved as time went on. Maybe if they were lucky, Thor’s father would end up being hopelessly oblivious to that kind of stuff. Or having cataracts. Or maybe both. Darcy kind of hoped it was both. Jane needed all the help she could get, really.

“Hey, so, not to be an ass,” Darcy started, “but you look like you’re practically vibrating out of your skin right now. How the hell are you gonna convincingly pull off this whole fake marriage thing again?”

“Can we just make it through dinner first?” Jane asked a bit desperately, which really didn’t answer Darcy’s question, which meant that Jane was probably in full internal freak-out mode right now.

“Um, sure. One step at a time.” Darcy nodded, scuffing her boots along the fancy grey flagstone underfoot. God, they were in so flipping far over their heads already, and they hadn’t even made it to the door yet. “So,” she said, looking around the extravagant yard, “fancy bunch of fuckers, huh?”

That time when Jane laughed it was genuine. “First of all, please at least _try_ to keep the language to a G rating - okay, PG-13,” she amended after Darcy shot her a dry ‘in what universe is that ever gonna happen’ kind of look.

The wind chose that moment to pick up, whipping loose, long curls into her face, and Darcy spit one of them out before saying, “I can definitely try.” It was as close to a promise as she could make given her mouth’s tendency to run wild any chance it got.

“Secondly, please don’t be rude to Thor. Yes, we’re – _I’m,_ ” Jane corrected with a slight blush, “doing him a pretty huge favour, but he’s giving us something big in return, so go easy on him, okay? No death glares. Or those under-your-breath insults where you think the rest of us can’t hear you when we really, really can. Just a couple hours of being a pleasant, semi-normal human being, that’s all I ask.”

“Hey, I’m a fucking delight,” Darcy grumbled, trudging along beside Jane as they worked their way up the winding pathway towards the front steps.

“Third-” Jane carried on without so much as a pause.

Darcy groaned. “Ugh, there’s more?”

“Third,” Jane repeated in her ‘I might be small but I can still fuck you up’ voice, so Darcy wisely opted to shut her mouth, “can you maybe smile a little? Or at least do something with your face that doesn’t make it look like you’re in total agony right now?”

“If this is supposed to be a pep talk, you’re doing a kinda terrible job of it,” Darcy noted as they finally reached the tall, black polished wood of the Odinson's front door.

“Just...be you,” Jane summarized, “but, like, dialed back to a six.” She took a steadying breath then, finger hovering over the doorbell as she glanced over at Darcy. “Ready?”

Darcy tried to aim for a smile that didn’t scream Painfully Fake. It was maybe 20% successful, she figured. “As I’ll ever be.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up next: they meet! Finally! ;)


	5. Chapter 5

 

If possible, the inside of the Odinson estate was even more impressive than the outside. Fancy fuckers, indeed.

Ditching her shoes and jacket by the door, Darcy trailed after Jane as they crossed the large, airy foyer, following behind the butler/man servant/prim-looking staff guy who’d first greeted them at the door. Like, an _actual_ butler. In a black suit and everything. Darcy never even realized that was a thing outside of movies.

While they made their way down the hall - presumably towards the dining room, Darcy figured – she took the opportunity to straight-up gawk around at the tall arched ceilings, glittery expensive-looking chandeliers, and old-school oil portraits lining the walls.

“Damn, how soon can we move in again?” she murmured under her breath, earning a subtle yet painful nudge in the stomach courtesy of Jane’s exceptionally pointy-feeling elbows.

When they finally reached their destination, butler-dude (Darcy was disappointed to find that he did not, in fact, have a crisp and snooty British accent) slipped away smoothly after announcing their arrival to the dining room’s single occupant: a tall, built blond guy who, judging from the way his whole face lit up when he laid eyes on Jane, was the infamous husband-to-be and lab purveyor, Thor.

“Welcome,” he greeted warmly, smiling like...woah. Darcy had to look away before it could do any serious damage to her retinas. It was like a bomb of sunshine, really. Leveling everything and everyone in its path as he rounded the formal dining table, kissing Jane on the cheek. “Please, come sit. Might I offer you a drink?”

“She'll have one glass,” Darcy jumped in, answering for Jane, “so she can steady her nerves but still keep her head on straight.”

“Oh my god.” Jane immediately turned the colour of a beet.

Thor laughed. “It's alright,” he assured Jane, already extending one palm out towards Darcy, “I find your friend's honesty to be refreshing. Darcy, is it?”

“Yep.” She took his offered hand. You could tell a lot about a person from their handshake, her grandma used to say. Thor's was solid, tight but not uncomfortably so as he pumped her arm twice, the motion warm and sure like he was genuinely happy to meet her. Grandma Lewis would totally approve.

“A pleasure, Darcy.” He smiled again, expression going a little soft and sappy around the edges as his eyes kept straying back to Jane, and damn, how heart-meltingly sweet was that?

It was uncalled for, was what it was, Darcy thought, vaguely annoyed by Thor’s immediate general charm and likeableness. She was supposed to be the tough uncompromising one here, vetting this guy for Jane, and yet one quick little lovesick look in Jane’s direction and Darcy was ready for them to start making adorable blond science-y babies together.

Once they settled in at the table and dinner got underway, it progressed with a relaxed kind of ease that was actually surprising. Sure, Jane still blushed like crazy and almost knocked her cutlery off the table, and made this weird kind of giggle-snort noise that Darcy didn’t even know she was physically capable of making in response to one of Thor’s jokes, but despite whatever lingering nerves Jane had been dealing with, it definitely wasn’t the worst of her social interactions that Darcy had ever witnessed.

So when Thor excused himself to go grab a second bottle of wine from the kitchen, Darcy took the opportunity to shoot Jane a thumbs-up from across the table, making Jane flush and beam back at her in response.

God, Darcy thought, looking up at the ceiling and trying to gain a little strength before she reached for her glass and sucked back the rest of her drink. This relationship would be the death of her. They were already way too fucking cute and it’d barely been an hour.

“So,” Thor began once he’d returned to his seat with a fresh bottle in hand, “should we begin the business portion of our evening and settle the terms of our agreement?”

“Absolutely.” Jane straightened in her seat, any last awkwardness melting away as she slipped into professional negotiation mode. “When can Darcy and I start using the lab?”

Darcy hid her smile behind another forkful of glazed carrots. As entertaining as it was to watch fumbling, shy love-struck Jane, it was always nice to see a little reminder that she would always still be, first and foremost, an epically devoted science nerd.   

Thor, to his credit, didn’t even seem phased by the eagerness of the question. “I have a few final phone calls to make in the morning,” he replied, refilling his glass, “but I do not see why you cannot take possession of the lab immediately afterwards. I could arrange a time for you to pick up the keys when I speak with Stark?”

Jane practically beamed. “Yes. That would be great, thanks.”

“As for the marriage itself...” Thor looked to Jane. “Have you any requests? A church ceremony, or a large reception perhaps?”

“No church,” Jane replied with a shake of her head, smiling with a little edge of dry humor in it. “We might get struck by lightning for attempting that.”

Thor laughed, loud and warm. “A fair point.”

“City hall is fine,” Jane confirmed, glancing across the table to where Darcy was still polishing off the last of her dinner, “and Darcy and your brother can act as our witnesses, if they’ll agree.”

“Count me in,” Darcy replied around a slightly too-ambitious bite of baguette.

“Loki may require some convincing, but that’s nothing a small bribe will not solve,” Thor said as easily as if he were commenting on the vintage of the wine.

Darcy swallowed her mouthful of food before tilting her head curiously at Thor. “You’d actually have to bribe your own brother into doing something nice for you? Dude sounds like a real dickwad.”

“Loki does not believe in granting favours; he will want something in return. Of course he also simply takes great pleasure in complicating my life whenever possible.” Thor shrugged, adding a short explanation of, “Little brothers.”

“Ah, the younger sibling complex.” Darcy nodded solemnly. “Say no more.”

“Darce,” Jane pointed out, “you’re an only child.”

“So?” Darcy shoved another chunk of baguette in her mouth, adding defensively, “I know stuff.”

“Well then, that takes care of the matter of the ceremony and your laboratory space,” Thor said. “I believe there are still a few details left to discuss concerning our living arrangements and the like.”

“Oh. Of course.” Jane pressed her napkin to her lips before setting it aside. “We’d be staying here, I assume? My flat’s barely big enough for the two of us most days,” she explained apologetically, gesturing between herself and Darcy.

“You are welcome to stay as soon and as long as you like,” Thor graciously confirmed. “I owe you a great deal for agreeing to this arrangement, the least I can do is make the transition as comfortable as possible for you. There are plenty of rooms here, as well as a guest house out back if you would prefer something more private.” 

“Here is fine,” Jane went a bit pink, “since I guess we’ll need to, um, start staying in the same bedroom?”

He cleared his throat, not hiding his own rising blush any better and looking almost embarrassed as he shifted in his chair. “Yes. Right. I suppose that raises a few other rather important topics we should discuss,” Thor, bless his enormous blond heart, struggled to put it delicately, “more specifically, the issue of...ah...consummation.”

“Aaand I’m out,” Darcy announced, abruptly sliding out of her seat. “I'm just gonna go...not be here.”

Yikes. That was one part of the plan she resolutely did _not_ need to know the details of.

Shaking off the ensuing mental images that particular topic brought to mind, she meandered back down the same fancy painting-filled hallway from earlier and hooked a left into what looked like a parlour room, complete with delicate little Victorian-style chairs and a shiny black grand piano off in one corner.  

Ooh, snazzy.

The chairs were the type that looked like there was a fairly decent chance that the weight of her ass would turn them into a pile of kindling, so Darcy opted for perching on the edge of the sofa instead, which was still old and uncomfortable but looked slightly more sturdy.

Drumming her fingers on the top of her thigh, she took in the ostentatious room around her. There were a few busts displayed along the far wall - none of the faces looking even remotely familiar to her - and more old, fancy-looking paintings dotting the wall adjacent to that. These ones were mostly landscapes and scenes as opposed to the portraits she’d wandered by in the hallway, and, surprise surprise, it was all your classic, stereotypical rich-people content too. She counted one sailboat, two horses, and a creepy vase of flowers that was painted in such dark tones, if this was a horror movie, that thing would totally have some dead-eyed demon child crawling out of it to suck her soul out through her eyeballs.

Barely containing a shudder, Darcy turned her attention over to the piano instead, and she was just starting to entertain the idea of going over there to plunk a few keys (chopsticks, anyone?) when someone cleared their throat in the doorway.

“Oh, hi. Am I not supposed to be in here?” she asked, turning in her seat and fully expecting to see the same butler-dude from earlier giving her the disapproving stink-eye.

The stink-eye was there, but it was coming courtesy of some new younger, dark-haired guy instead.

“Jeez, how many butlers does this place need?” Darcy muttered, mostly to herself as the unfamiliar guy in the doorway continued to stare at her.

After an uncomfortably long pause, he raised his eyebrows, finally asking in a deep baritone, “Do I look like a butler to you?”

Darcy gave him a quick once-over. Well dressed, check. Nice accent, check. General air of snooty superiority, double check. “Yes.”

Like a thunderstorm rolling in, the guy’s face went dark as his eyes narrowed. “I _live_ here.”

“That sounds like something a butler would say,” Darcy pointed out, not entirely convinced by his statement, but also just kind of enjoying pushing his buttons. Hey, she had to make fun however she could while she waited for Jane.

Clearly unimpressed with her response, Angry Doorway Guy gritted his teeth, enunciating clearly as he retorted, “I am Thor’s brother.”

_Oh_.

Crap.

Nice one, Darce.

“Ooohh, yeah, okay. I can, um, see the resemblance?” she finished with a slight wince, voice going all high and unsure as she lied her ass off.

Because _brothers_?  Seriously?

Honestly, the guy looked like Thor’s polar opposite in every way: dark features, clipped tone, frame lean and severe and lacking in the genial warmth Thor exuded so easily.

“I’m adopted,” he spoke bluntly, answering the question that must have been written clear as day all over Darcy’s face.

“Oh! That makes way more sense,” she blurted, before her eyes went wide and she realized her mistake.

She opened her mouth again, about to apologize, but then the corner of the guy’s mouth quirked up and it seemed like...like he was actually _smiling_.

Huh. It was a surprisingly good look on him, Darcy thought, pressing her lips together as the smiled back in a way that hopefully came across as apologetic.

“So I guess that makes you Loki?” she questioned, still having a hard time believing it.

Leaning one shoulder against the doorframe, he continued to openly study her, silent for so long that Darcy had to fight not to squirm under the weight of that dark, assessing gaze. 

“I am,” he replied after a solid century and a half.

Clearly not a fan of small talk, then. That was fine, Darcy could work with it. Jane always liked to say that she talked enough for two people anyway.

“Darcy,” she greeted, offering up a little wave. “I’m Jane’s friend, assuming Thor’s told you about Jane, otherwise this conversation’s about to get _reeeal_ awkward.”

Loki crossed his arms over his chest, showing off nicely muscles forearms where his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. It was unfairly attractive, especially with the way he was still leaning so casually-confident in the doorway.  “I am aware of their arrangement.”

Darcy gave a little hum of acknowledgement, making another attempt at getting the conversation ball rolling. “Pretty crazy, right?”

“I suppose that’s one word for it,” Loki muttered, face going all scowly like he’d just bitten into a lemon, and he looked so absurdly petulant in that moment, like a five year old who’d just had his favourite toy taken away, Darcy had to bite her lip to keep from grinning at the sight.

Crossing her legs, she shifted to lean more of her weight against the arm of the sofa, relaxing a little more now that she felt confident enough that the spindly piece of furniture wouldn’t immediately cave in under her weight. “They’re cute though.  I could totally see them staying together even after the gig is up, like some crazy rom-com come to life.”

Loki scoffed. “A rather foolish, clichéd delusion on your part.”

“Wow,” Darcy muttered, eyebrows shooting up, “tell me how you really feel.”

Loki smiled; a quick flash of a thing that was there and gone in an instant. “That was the polite version. Believe me when I say that you do not wish to hear the uncensored one.”

_Actually, I really, really do_ , Darcy thought, intrigued and more amused than she was willing to let on. “Not on board with the whole marriage of convenience thing, huh?” she settled on asking instead.

Loki snorted in a way that very clearly said that was the understatement of the century. “No, though I suppose I must get ‘on board’ rather quickly,” he answered with a pained grimace.

Darcy frowned. Aside from gaining a phony sister-in-law for a year or so, she failed to see how Thor’s decision would actually have all that much of an impact on him. “What do you mean?”

Looking at her like she was a few brain cells short of a kitchen sponge, Loki inquired, “You know the purpose of Thor’s engagement to your friend, do you not?”

“Yeah.” Darcy nodded. “His trust fund.”

Wordlessly, Loki raised both eyebrows at her in an extremely pointed look.

“Oh shit,” Darcy breathed, eyes widening as she pieced it all together. “You’re in the same boat, aren’t you?”

“I require a wife,” Loki confirmed in the same kind of tone one might use to say ‘I have to schedule a colonoscopy’.

Darcy made a sympathetic sound. The guy seemed like a bit of a dick, but still, no one deserved to get roped into a crazy historical romance-style ultimatum like that. Marry or lose everything? What the actual fuck?

“Sucks, dude,” she finally settled on saying. “You have any potential fiancées yet?”

“Well, I have recently come across one promising prospect,” he said, looking directly at her, steady and intense and the tiniest bit unnerving, “assuming she has no qualms about taking her participation in Thor’s scheme one step further.”

Darcy blinked at him, feeling something settle low and heavy in her stomach like concrete. Deadpanned and flat, she stated, “It’s me, isn’t it.”

Loki didn’t say a single word in response, but the way his face began to split into a slow, unfurling grin was all the answer Darcy needed.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so it begins... ;)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let the negotiations begin!

 

Well.

That escalated quickly.

Doing a pretty good impression of a goldfish, Darcy opened and closed her mouth a few times before finally slumping back against the sofa, saying, “Look, if we’re gonna have this conversation, could we at least not yell it across the room? I don’t bite, you know.”

Loki remained fixed in the doorway for a few seconds longer - waging some sort of internal debate from the looks of it – before he made up his mind and stepped into the room, coming to sit on the empty end of the couch, as far from Darcy as physically possible.

“You will do it?” He seemed to interpret her olive branch as an entire freaking spruce tree, eyebrows raised expectantly as he watched her with an expression that was an odd mixture of subdued hopefulness and contempt at having to admit he even needed her help in the first place.

 “Woah, back up dude.” Darcy’s palms flew up in the universal symbol for ‘hold the fuck on’. “I never said yes.”

“Technically, you have not said no either,” Loki countered smugly, “therefore it can be construed-”

“I construed nothing!” Darcy exclaimed, interrupting him. “Who even uses words like that? You sound like a textbook right now.”

“And you sound like nails upon a chalkboard,” Loki retorted.

Darcy frowned, shooting a little unimpressed side-eye action his way. “Gotta say,” she put out there conversationally, “you’re not off to a great start with the whole asking for my help thing. I’ve got nothing to lose if I walk away here. You, on the other hand...”

Loki bristled at that, looking annoyed beyond words until he eventually sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose before speaking again, more calmly now. “If I may be frank, clearly neither one of us are particularly thrilled at the prospect of matrimony, however,” he went on in a slow, neutral tone, “if approached correctly, I do believe we can reach a mutually beneficial agreement advantageous to us both.”  

“Now you just sound like you went to business school,” Darcy noted, immediately perking up as she grinned a little. “In fact, I think I’m gonna call you that. Business School.  B.S. for short. It’s a perfect fit.”

Groaning, Loki ran a hand over his face. “Gods, I cannot believe I am even entertaining the idea of being married to you for an entire year.”

“Oh how the mighty have fallen.” Darcy’s grin morphed into a sweetly angelic smile when Loki turned narrowed eyes on her. The picture of innocence; that was her all right. “It would really have to be for a full year, though? Like twelve entire months? Yikes.”

Loki’s mouth twisted into a faintly satisfied smirk. “So you are considering it.”

“No,” Darcy automatically replied. “Just...hypothetically. I’m curious.”

The look on Loki’s face clearly said he didn’t buy that excuse for a second. “Actually, I believe a year and six months would be most appropriate. Anything too close to one year exactly would likely rouse suspicion when we divorce.”

“ _We_?” Darcy blinked before shaking her head stubbornly. “Dude, let me remind you again: there is no _we_ here.”

Loki blew out an exasperated breath, rolling his eyes upwards. “My apologies,” he stated in a flat voice, obviously not sorry at all. “When we - _hypothetically -_ divorce. Better?”

Before Darcy could stop herself, a brief little laugh bubbled up out of her mouth. For a jerk, he at least had a pretty good sense of humor. “You’re a total asshole, aren’t you?” she asked, not meaning it to be rude or insulting at all, more just out of a genuine interest in finding out what made him tick; how he could so easily smile in one moment, then look like murder personified in the next.

Loki studied her for a few long seconds, eyes flicking over her face before he shrugged, unconcerned. “I have been called far worse.”

Darcy snorted, trying to push down the wave of weird, sudden heat that rose in her cheeks when he looked at her like that. “I’m sure you have.”

There was no way she was going to take him up on his offer, of course; no way she was about to get roped into some crazy, harebrained scheme that left her stuck posing as his wife for an entire eighteen months, but still, the longer Darcy sat there, the more she realized maybe it wouldn’t be as much of a grim, dread-filled prison sentence as she’d first thought.

He could be pretty damn charming when he wanted to be, and funny in a sharp, sarcastic kind of way that was right up her alley. Not to mention, he hadn’t exactly been cursed in the looks department either.

Darcy chanced a sneaky glance out of the corner of her eye, and her suspicions were quickly reaffirmed. Damn, he was totally filling out that dress shirt with a surprisingly broad set of shoulders and well-defined arms that were nothing to sneeze at.

But she couldn’t seriously be considering this, could she? It seemed like a wildly bad idea in at least forty different ways, and yet she couldn’t shake off the lingering idea of it, couldn’t help but wonder exactly what it would be like if she said yes. An adventure for sure, if nothing else.

“If...” she found herself starting slowly, mouth operating without her brain’s input, “- and that’s a big ‘if’ – I decide to help you, what’s in it for me?”

Jane might’ve been all fine and dandy with a boring old lab, but Darcy’d better be getting a freaking rhinestone-encrusted party yacht out of this. Like, something so outrageously luxurious, it would be enough to make Mariah Carey cry diamond-butterfly tears of envy behind her thousand dollar sunglasses.

...if she decided to do it, that is.

Right. Yes. Can’t forget the ‘if’.

Loki’s answering smile was so stunningly luminous, it could have powered the entire neighbourhood for a week. “I am willing to offer you a very respectable sum. Last I checked, the balance of the trust fund currently rests at 1.2 million, so shall we say three percent?”

“Three percent?!” Darcy had a feeling she was being very slyly duped right now. That sneaky, smooth-talking fucker. “That’s pocket change, man! We’re talking about me giving you a literal _year and a half_ of my life. I think that’s worth a little more than three percent!”

“Fine then,” Loki waved his hand in a ‘go on’ sort of gesture, “what do you deem appropriate?”

Tapping her foot, she gave it some thought, chewing on the inside of her cheek before finally declaring, “Half.”

Would he ever go for that? No. But honestly, it was worth saying it just to see the way Loki’s eyes practically bugged out of his head in shock.  

“Absolutely _not_.”

He sounded so appalled, it was all Darcy could do to press her lips together and attempt to keep a straight face. Expert negotiators did not giggle, and she was about to negotiate his ass into the cold, hard ground.

“Five percent,” Loki countered, evidently gearing up for a fight himself as he sat up a bit straighter, now angling his body towards her as he met her gaze head-on.

Well then. If it was a battle of steely wits he was after, Darcy was more than happy to dive straight in.

“Forty.”

“Eight.”

“Thirty-five or I walk out the door.”

“Twelve. You cannot leave without Jane.”

“Twenty-eight and I meant it more as a figure of speech, dumbass.”

“Call me that again and I will show you to the door myself. Fifteen.”

“Twenty-six, and I don’t think I appreciate the tone of your voice right now.”

“Twenty-five or _I_ will be the one to walk away,” Loki threatened, “and I can assure you, I mean that in the most literal sense of the phrase.”

Still fired up and itching to throw back another verbal punch, Darcy forced herself to pause at that, snapping her mouth shut. Twenty-five percent. _Three hundred freaking grand_. That...well, that was no small chunk of change, and it was a hell of a lot more than she ever thought she’d be able to squeeze out of him.

Huh.

That got her thinking.

Maybe...maybe it wouldn’t be so unreasonable to do this after all. She’d get to stay in a big fancy house, wouldn’t have to budget every month down to the very last penny anymore, and even with their newly acquired lab space, Jane’s research could definitely use the extra financial boost. Darcy knew all too well how often equipment broke, and trial runs always ate up resources like a bitch...

Twenty-five.

Hmm.

“Fine,” she eventually relented, “I’ll do it. But not for you. Or the money.” It was totally the money, but she had to at least pretend she still had _some_ morals here. “I’m doing it because Jane would want me to.”

Looking supremely satisfied with himself, Loki leaned back, both eyebrows shooting up into his hairline as an amused smile played at the edges of his mouth. “And do you always do what Jane requires of you?”

Ignoring the taunt, Darcy kept her chin up high and answered evenly, “If it makes her happy, yes.”

At that, Loki let out a short, disbelieving laugh. The sound was appealingly deep and rich, but the fact that she was being blatantly laughed _at_ rubbed Darcy in all the wrong ways.

“What?” she asked defensively, “you’ve never put someone else’s needs before your own?”

“Well...no,” Loki replied, offering up an infuriatingly gorgeous grin.

God, it was going to be one looong year and a half.

“Yeah,” Darcy muttered, “somehow that doesn’t surprise me.”

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

Loki stood at the edge of the room, removed from the banal chatter and annoyingly raucous rounds of laughter that grated deeper and deeper on his nerves with every passing second.

It had been a little over a week since Thor first announced his intention to marry Doctor Foster - ten days, to be precise - and as of today, Loki officially found himself in possession of one new sister in law.

Thor and Jane had been wed at the courthouse only hours earlier, quietly and without a great deal of fanfare. Loki, playing the part of dutiful brother, had stood there much the same as he was now; silent and disconnected, only engaging in his surroundings when it came time to sign the required documentation, and all the while, as he scrawled his name with a steady hand that did not match his unsteady mind, his stomach had churned with dread-laden knowledge.

Because in exactly two days, he and Darcy would be doing the same.

In two days, he would take a wife of his own.

A loud, confusing, combative, utterly ridiculous wife he had known for all of seventy-two hours.

If Loki were a weaker man, he likely would have excused himself to vomit in the washroom at least twice by now, but as it was, he kept stubbornly to his refuge at the outskirts of the drawing room, neither leaving nor partaking in the small celebratory reception before him.

There was much to keep him entertained to some extent, at least: Thor’s laughable attempts at dancing without squashing his diminutive bride, Odin’s varying degrees of satisfaction and smugness as he watched the pair, and the way Darcy had permanently stationed herself at the edge of the dessert bar, hoarding strawberry tarts not unlike a dragon amassing piles of gold.

 _Darcy_.  His eyes seemed to stubbornly return to her again and again throughout the evening, curious and keen to catalogue every one of her bizarre little quirks and mannerisms.

Currently, she was chatting away with the newly minted bride and groom, clad in a burnt orange sweater dress and black tights; a garish combination that made her look like Halloween personified.

Loki steadfastly ignored the way the material flattered the curve of her hips. How the colour brought out the rich streaks of chocolate brown in her hair.

No, he firmly decided, it looked absolutely ridiculous, and he was debating stalking over there and telling her as much when Thor chose that exact moment to make some inaudible comment, she _laughed,_ and Loki’s throat instantly went dry.

The action seemed to carry through her whole body; lips parting and head tipped back as her shoulders shook and she leaned against Jane for support. She did not laugh shyly or gracefully but honest and unpolished; a loud, warm note that left him momentarily struck, staring, heart pounding a half-step quicker.

Damn.

That was going to complicate matters. She wasn’t supposed to be beautiful.

Their engagement was merely a commercial transaction, Loki swiftly and sternly reminded himself, and when it came to business, he was nothing if not a strict professional. He could pay no mind to the minor detail of Darcy Lewis’ sudden and rather unsettling attractiveness; he was well-versed in the art of ignorance after all. He would simply ignore it just as he’d spend so long ignoring his father’s favouritism towards Thor. Ignoring the bleak blanket of loneliness that came with being the perpetual outsider. Ignoring the ever-present question of _where do I fit into this family_ that ricocheted around in the back of his mind in a constant, fretful whisper of doubt.

Yes, Loki thought, forcing reluctant eyes away to stare blankly at the wall instead. It wouldn’t be a problem at all.

 

* * *

 

Her soon-to-be-husband was being a big fat weirdo.

Popping the last bite of strawberry tart into her mouth, Darcy brushed the crumbs off her fingers and resigned herself to the fact that she was going to have to go over there and say something. He couldn’t hang out alone at the edge of the room for the entire night looking like gloom grew itself a pair of legs and slapped on a scowl, not if they were going to sell the whole whirlwind romance engagement thing – and especially given the fact that Loki’s father, the ol’ Keeper of the Trust Fund himself, was literally only a couple feet away.

Convincing, they were not. In fact, at the rate they were going now, Darcy thought with a frown, they’d probably crash and burn before even making it to their own wedding day.

Sighing, she grabbed her drink off the edge of the dessert table, took a fortifying gulp, and marched across the room to where her fiancée was standing by himself, looking like the disinterested, super-pretentious edgy kid who was too cool to be seen at the school dance.

“You know,” Darcy sidled up next to him, nudging him in the kidney with her elbow, “we should probably make it look like we at least sorta like each other,” she noted before sticking her tongue out and using it to try and wrangle her drink’s straw back into her mouth.

With an audibly pained sigh, Loki lifted an arm and lightly rested his palm on the top of her nearest shoulder. “Better?”

Darcy snorted. “Sure, if you’re my gentleman caller and this is 1902. Come on dude, touch me like you’re an actual human person who’s at least vaguely enjoying my company.”

“I hardly think I’m _that_ good of an actor,” Loki retorted dryly, but nevertheless he slid that hand down from her shoulder to the bend of her arm before tucking it in further to curl around side of her ribcage, tugging Darcy a tiny bit closer and holding her lightly against his side.

Darcy tried not to shiver too noticeably at the contact. Damn. He was unexpectedly warm and smelled really, really good up close like that.

“That –” she had to pause and clear her throat to get rid of the weird croaky element that’d somehow crept into her voice, “that’s better.”

Ducking down just enough to murmur in her ear, Loki returned with a heavy dose of sarcastic flair, “Oh, good. I’m glad you approve. Otherwise I do not know how I would have managed to sleep tonight, living with the knowledge of having disappointed you so tremendously.”

“Jeez. Someone’s got their sassy pants on today,” Darcy commented, equal parts amused and miffed as she took another sip of her drink. He was entertaining, she’d give him that, but when she ended up bearing the brunt of 90% of his insults, that novelty wore off pretty damn fast.

“ _Someone_ ,” Loki pointed out dryly, “would rather not be here at all.”

“You know, we could disappear together,” Darcy mused before going in for another sip of her drink, managing to wrangle the straw into her mouth with much more success this time around. “It would make people talk. Help set up the whole ‘young, passionate lovers’ thing we’re going for.”

She didn’t even have to look up to know that Loki had instantly made a grossed-out face in response to that particular phrasing.

Sure enough, he flatly replied, “Never say those words again,” with a grimace, proceeding to steal the drink right out of Darcy’s hand, pluck out the straw, and swallow the remaining contents in one large mouthful.

“Thief!” Darcy accused dramatically, trying to wrestle the glass out of his hand and failing pretty epically due to the fact that Loki had nearly a full foot of height on her. “You owe me like five more of those strawberry tarts just for that. And now I’m gonna call us ‘passionate lovers’ right to your father’s face.”

“You will most certainly not.” Loki was quick to shut her down but his voice didn’t sound as firm as before, more like he was amused by Darcy’s threat as opposed to irritated by the possibility of her following through.

Darcy rolled with it, doing what she did best and playing up the silly, humorous aspect to keep the conversation moving along smoothly. Because Loki in a good mood? Actually not too bad. In fact, she kinda wanted to see more of it. “Ten bucks says he’d turn purple and choke on his own tongue.”

That, to her great surprise, earned her an outright laugh; Loki’s arm tightening a fraction around her waist where he still held her pulled up casually against his side. “I think we are far more likely to trigger a full-scale heart attack,” he joked, quiet and conspiratorial in her ear, making Darcy’s stomach dip and go all fluttery like the first big plunge downhill on a rollercoaster.

Oh no.

Scratch that - Loki in a good mood was very far from not bad, she realized with a slow-sinking sense of doom. Like, actually enjoyable and charming and a tiny bit hot.

Crap. 

“I’m going to, um, get more of those tarts.” She quickly wriggled out of Loki’s hold, cheeks going warm, feeling like a monumentally awkward dweeb as she bobbed her head, nodding to herself. “Yes. Food. To eat. For reasons.”

Not brave enough to look up and catch Loki’s resulting expression, she whirled around and made her escape back across the room towards the dessert table, trying to ignore the way her heart was beating a little faster. The way her side felt just a little bit colder with that arm no longer there.

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

 

“Should I wear white? Is that like some kind of sacred tradition I need to uphold?” Squinting at the contents of her closet, Darcy studied the modest collection of sundresses with a critical eye. “Because I kind of want to wear jeans,” she admitted, “just to see how much of a total fucking conniption Loki would have if I showed up to our wedding in skinny ripped-knee denim.”

From her seat over on Darcy’s bed, Jane laughed. “I’m not sure what the standard is for fake impromptu weddings,” she replied, leaning to one side so she could peer around Darcy and study the closet’s meager offerings herself. “The blue one always looks nice on you.”

Darcy chewed her lip, reaching out to trail her fingers over the soft jewel-tone fabric as she considered it. It was definitely one of her nicer dresses, but a piece of her wasn’t even sure if she _wanted_ to look nice today. The idea of meeting Loki at the altar and giving him a subtle, unspoken middle finger in the form of a questionable wardrobe decision was just too tempting to ignore.

“Not gonna lie, I’m still leaning towards showing up like this.” Darcy spun back around to face Jane, showing off her black distressed jeans and well-worn grey t-shirt proclaiming ‘Fries Before Guys’. A statement everyone should strive to live by, really.

Jane hummed, giving it some thought before replying, “Look, I think you should do whatever you want, but it’s also important to remember that marriage requires compromise. So you might want to ask yourself if you’re starting off on the right foot here.”

Both eyebrows shooting up, Darcy made an exaggerated impressed face. “Look at you, married for all of forty-eight hours and now you’re some kind of fancy relationship guru? Is your middle name secretly Oprah? Do I have to pay you for your services once this conversation’s over?”

“Shut up.” Jane waved her off, laughing a little. “I’m just saying, you’re not exactly making life easy for this guy – or for yourself, either.”

“He totally started it first.” Darcy had absolutely zero qualms about throwing her husband-to-be under the bus. Maybe if she was lucky, that bus would even back up and roll over him a few extra times. A girl could dream.

“Even so,” Jane acknowledged with single-shouldered shrug, “are you really prepared to spend the next eighteen months at each others’ throats? It sounds exhausting.”

“Hey, Darcy Lewis is no quitter,” Darcy replied, planting her hands on her hips proudly, “...well, except for when I dropped out of that biology course...and the homemade yogurt debacle of 2014...and that time I thought it would be a good idea to breed cockatiels – okay, so maybe that’s not exactly true, but the point is, for as long as Loki’s willing to dish shit out, I’m gonna serve it right back at him.”

Jane made an amused little noise, somewhere between a snort and a laugh. “Sounds like the beginning of a beautiful relationship.”

Darcy grinned back at her, unconcerned. “You’ll bail me out of jail if things really go off the rails, right?” she asked, extending one arm out in a fist for Jane to bump.

Jane rolled her eyes good-naturedly, leaning forward to tap her knuckles against Darcy’s. “What are friends for?”

Grin widening, Darcy felt a little better as she turned her attention back to her closet, eyes automatically returning to that soft blue dress. “So it’s all about compromise, huh?” she murmured thoughtfully, brain already busy formulating a plan.

 

* * *

 

 

In the end, she wore her nicest dress, carefully styled her hair, and topped the whole look off with her favourite pair of black beat-up Converse sneakers.

The way Loki stared at her - not with annoyance or exasperation, but wide-eyed and stunned like a deer caught in headlights – wasn’t the reaction she was going for, but for some reason it still stirred to life a tiny, warm flicker of satisfaction deep in Darcy’s chest.

She swallowed it down and did her best to ignore it. To ignore the way her voice wobbled a little during her vows. To ignore the oddly gentle touch of Loki’s hand when he slipped that shiny white gold band into place on her finger. To ignore the way her heart thrummed like a hummingbird’s wings – the way she couldn’t catch a full breath – when they both leaned forward and cemented their new status as man and wife with a brief, barely-there kiss.  

 

* * *

 

 

Reception-wise, they weren’t let off the hook quite as easily as Thor and Jane had been.

“You must come spend the weekend at our vacation house,” Loki’s father adamantly insisted after they sucked up all their courage, cornered Odin in his study, and broke the news of their sort-of-elopement. “We will host a formal dinner to celebrate.”

Darcy, in a moment of blind and flailing panic, turned to Loki for help, but it looked like he wasn’t faring any better than she was at the moment, wearing an equally blindsided, dismayed expression of his own, mouth slightly open but no sound coming out.

“Oh,” he finally managed to choke out after too long of an awkward silence, “we wouldn’t want to impose...”

“Nonsense.” Odin stood firm on his offer, tone beginning to inch over the line from ‘polite request’ into ‘strict demand’ territory when he added, studying the pair of them slowly and doubtfully, “I expect to see you both there.”

“Of course.” Loki looked like he’d swallowed a bug, throat working a few times before he was able to get the promise out.

They’d been dismissed not long after that and it felt a lot like leaving the principal’s office after having been lucky enough to get off with a mild warning instead of a full suspension. Once they were back in the relative safety of the hallway, the pair exchanged a look before immediately heading for the kitchen, both to gain a little privacy and maybe also steal a fortifying sip or two from Odin’s extensive collection of booze.

Without the heavy, unnerving weight of her new father in law’s gaze pressing down on her any longer, Darcy was left feeling like she was a second away from collapsing in a dizzy, relieved heap on the floor. So after sliding onto the nearest barstool at the counter, she immediately sprawled half her upper body across the cool marble, slapping a hand over her face and groaning, “Oh god, he knows. He knows we’re faking it. He totally knows.”

Busy plucking two expensive-looking crystal tumblers from the cupboard, Loki glanced over his shoulder and rolled his eyes at Darcy’s current state of theatrics.

“He knows nothing,” he assured, clearly unimpressed by her overblown reaction, voice gaining a sarcastic edge as he added, “however if you plan to continue these _delightful_ little bouts of unfounded paranoia, I suspect he will know rather soon.”

Reluctantly picking herself back up from her sprawled position, Darcy frowned at him. “Hey, give me a break here. I’m new to this whole...” she flapped her hands around, searching for the right word, “thing.”

Loki’s eyebrows rose curiously. “What ‘thing’ would that be? Deceit? Acting, perhaps? Because I can certainly vouch for that. You’re hardly an actress in any sense of the word.”

“Gee, thanks for the moral support.” Darcy leaned her elbows on the countertop, shooting her own raised-eyebrow look right back at Loki. “So now that we’ve established just how much I suck at this, what are we gonna do to fix it?”

Face utterly neutral, Loki answered with a question of his own. “How does anyone excel at anything?”

Jeez, it was like being married to a Mensa test.

“Um...” Darcy pressed her lips together, thinking. “Bribery?”

“What? No, with _practice,_ ” Loki corrected her, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose like he was staving off an impending headache. _Well, get used to it, buddy_ , Darcy thought. He still had a whole year and a half of Darcy-induced headaches left to endure. This was only day one; they’d barely even scratched the surface.

“Oh right. That was totally going to be my next guess,” she said, nodding along like that answer came as no surprise.

 With a long-suffering sigh, Loki turned back around long enough to finish pouring their drinks, the sudden quiet of the kitchen only interrupted by the soft clink of bottle against glass before he eventually moved to join Darcy, sliding one of the tumblers in her direction while keeping the other for himself.

Darcy immediately threw back a mouthful of the amber liquid and winced when it proceeded to set her throat on fire with all the burning force of a thousand angry, raging suns.

“Oh God.” She coughed, blinked the tears from her eyes, then flipped Loki the finger when she noticed him struggling not to laugh at her. “Wow. Okay,” she finally managed to continue, voice croaking only a little bit, “okay. So we practice, you said. Practice what exactly?”  

Smoothly sliding his glass back and forth along the countertop, Loki gave a disinterested shrug, suddenly reluctant to meet her eyes. “Growing comfortable with each other, I suppose. Learning each other’s likes, dislikes and interests. Touching and, ah...kissing.”

Bingo. So that’s why he couldn’t meet her eyes, Darcy realized with a gleeful sort of amusement. He was _embarrassed_. She’s never seen embarrassed Loki before. It was entirely awesome (and maybe a little endearing, but it was easy to tell that part of her brain to shut up).

“Aww, Loki.” She leaned towards him with a big, delighted grin. “If you wanted to kiss me you could’ve just asked.”

Head jerking up, Loki shot her a look that could only be described as murderous. “What I _want_ ,” he said lowly, “is to gain access to my trust fund, cut myself free of this family through any means necessary, and be rid of your obnoxious, insufferable presence.”  

Woah. She’d definitely touched on a nerve there.

Darcy automatically lifted both palms up in a show of truce. “Yikes. Okay, okay. Sorry. Look, I know this sucks for you all around, but I’m just trying to help. Really,” she insisted when Loki made an extremely unconvinced scoffing sound. “If you think we need...um, kissing practice, I can be a total professional about it.”

There was no fucking way she could be a professional about it.

Loki didn’t need to know that, though.

Reaching for the rest of the lighter fluid masquerading as liquor in her glass, Darcy raised her nearly-empty tumbler, holding it out and looking at Loki with an expectant arch of her eyebrows. “Come on, dude. Don’t leave me hangin’.”

Rubbing a hand over his face, Loki sighed before bringing his own glass up to clink the edge against hers.

“To practice,” Darcy declared, knowing she’d need all the alcoholic strength she could muster if she was going to make it out of this alive.

“To practice,” Loki echoed in a quiet murmur, quickly tossing back his own drink before Darcy had a chance to even notice the slight beginnings of a smile that pulled at his lips.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is the entirety of chapter 9 going to be devoted to kissing practice? Yes, yes it will.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This marks the end of the chapters I'd pre-written, so I have no idea when the next update will be, but at least we're leaving off on a good note ;)

 

It was possible that Darcy may have had too much to drink. It was also entirely possible that she was nowhere near drunk enough to actually go through with this.

After Loki’d poured them both another round of courage-boosting ‘let’s get this over with’ shots, Darcy was toeing the line of tipsy, and finally mentally prepared enough to commit to the idea of putting her mouth on his mouth.

Tossing back the last half-inch of liquid in her glass, she made a face, feeling the alcohol burn its way down her throat before she spun sideways on her stool, facing him head-on.

 “Alright,” she stated, slapping her hands down onto the tops of her knees and putting on her game face, which mainly involved trying to look cool and unflappable, yet soft and approachable enough to make Loki want to mack on her real good. It was a difficult balance. She probably looked more like she was fighting a sneeze or something.  “Showtime, dude. Do your worst.”

To her surprise, rather than moving in for practice kiss numero uno, Loki simply dragged a hand over his face and groaned.

“Gods, you really are terrible at this,” he said again, as if pointing out her glaring lack of acting abilities the first few times hadn’t been enough to really drive home the whole ‘yikes you suck’ thing.  “Look at you, you are as stiff as a board and I’ve yet to even touch you.”

“Hey, I’m chill. Super chill. The chillest,” Darcy insisted, trying to make her rigid shoulders relax as she aimed for leaning a casual elbow on the edge of the countertop, only flailing a little bit when she missed the mark entirely and had to scramble in an attempt to stay upright on her stool.

Judging from the way Loki’s mouth was still pulled down into a pretty deeply-set frown, ‘casual’ might have been a swing and a miss. It was probably more like ‘awkward and lacking depth perception’. Another fail for the record books. Awesome.

“Are you certain you are not inebriated?” Loki asked, squinting a little as he studied her doubtfully.

“Not enough to have me face-planting off my stool,” Darcy answered, shaking her head. “I’m proud to say that’s one hundred percent natural-born clumsiness. Hey, maybe if you’re lucky our kids’ll inherit it,” she added with a too-innocent grin. “My klutziness and your death-scowl. Talk about hitting the gene jackpot.”

Loki made the sourest face she’d seen from him yet, almost physically recoiling at that. “I shudder to imagine what type of screeching, ill-behaved, perpetually sticky-fingered hellions one such as yourself might be so physically capable of producing.”

Darcy blinked, trying to process all that. “You know, for future reference you might want to shorten your insults,” she pointed out helpfully. “I zoned out like half way through that.”

Making a noise somewhere between an annoyed growl and heaved sigh of exasperation, Loki looked down at his empty glass, clearly contemplating the perks of an additional refill. “You annoy me like no other, Darcy Lewis.”

Darcy grinned, totally delighted at having gotten under his skin. “The feeling’s mutual, babe.”

Loki’s scowl deepened into a full grimace. “Don’t call me that.”

“I really think pet names should be part of our shtick,” Darcy insisted. “Your options right now are babe, honey buns, or my little snuggle burrito, so you should probably pick one quick before I do it for you.”

“Fine.” Loki sighed, giving in surprisingly easily. Maybe he’d finally caught on that, for the sake of his blood pressure, it was best to pick his battles when it came to facing off against his new wife. “I suppose the first will suffice,” he acquiesced, “but if you are to provide a list of options for my choosing, it seems only fair that I am offered the same indulgence in return.”

“Yeah?” Curious to see just how ridiculous and/or petty his own collection of potential pet names would be, Darcy raised her eyebrows. “Okay, what do you have in mind?”

Loki studied her for a moment, quiet and thoughtful, before deciding, “Windbag.”

“What?! I am not,” Darcy retorted, offended. “The hell, man?! That’s way ruder than any of mine. I mean, I was going for the disgustingly sappy, cute angle, but if you’re gonna be an ass about it –”

“Darcy,” Loki interrupted, a hint of amusement colouring the edges of his voice, “it has been twenty minutes and we have yet to accomplish any of our task at hand.”

“Well, I told you to bring it, but then you said I looked like a stiff board and – okay,” she said, forcibly cutting herself off before she could earn that stupid nickname any further, “the point is, you provoked me so it’s totally your fault that we’re so off track, not because I’m a quote-unquote _windbag_ ,” she finished, adding her most scathing set of finger-quotes to that last word.

“You are doing it again,” Loki noted, leaning just a tiny bit closer, the ghost of a smile playing at his lips, “filling silence that does not need to be filled. Are you perhaps nervous, Darcy?”

“Nervous? About kissing you? Yeah right.” Darcy scoffed once, twice, then a few times more for good measure, just to get her point across. Was she nervous, what kind of stupid question was that? She was as cool as an arctic cucumber. Had her shit together like a motherfreaking boss. Was she _nervous_.  Just because Loki was leaning incrementally closer by the second, eyeing her like a predator might do to its prey, just because the back of her neck suddenly felt twenty degrees hotter and her stomach was doing something all funny and tingly, that didn’t mean she had pre-kiss performance anxiety.

Nervous.

Pfft.

Un-fucking-likely.

Loki leaned in even closer, completely invading her personal space now, and Darcy held her breath, hands instinctively clenching into fists in her lap.

“See?” Loki murmured, quiet and low, knees touching hers and mouth only inches away. “You flinch far too easily. I cannot have you giving us away within moments.”

Up close like that, his eyes were the same crystalline blue-green as tropical water. At least that’s what Darcy imagined anyway, if she wasn’t dead-ass broke and could actually afford to see what tropical water really did look like. Still though, it was surprisingly striking; an odd little detail she wasn’t prepared to notice at a time like this.

Working to consciously relax her balled-up fists, she raised one (definitely not sweaty) palm and carefully laid it on the upper curve of Loki’s shoulder, swallowing hard when she felt lean muscle flex beneath her fingertips, using the point of contact to steady herself as she slowly leaned her weight forward off the edge of the stool, the space between them gradually shrinking smaller and smaller.

When Loki closed the final gap and kissed her, Darcy’s breath caught all over again. It was chaste and brief; a slight warm pressure that was there and gone in an instant, over before Darcy could barely even register it.

Her lungs stuttered back to life when Loki drew away and she pulled in an uneven breath, eyes fluttering back open (when had she closed them?) and finding Loki’s face still hovering unusually close to hers.

“Not terrible,” Loki reviewed in a low murmur, eyes moving between her eyes and her mouth in long, conspicuous glances, “but you remain far too tense. Stop holding your breath,” he instructed, and with that, he moved back in, pressing his lips to hers with more purpose now, sliding two fingers under her chin to tip Darcy’s face up and keep her poised exactly where he wanted her.

If his plan was to relax her, it was having exactly the opposite effect.

Darcy’s heart felt like it was going to pound straight out of her chest. She made a noise – short, surprised, and totally _not_ out of enjoyment – and tightened her grip on his arm, fingers curling into the sleeve of his shirt as she kissed him back.

It was easier that time. Easier to forget the whys and whats and hows, easier to ignore the circumstances surrounding exactly what they were doing, and for a minute everything else faded into the background and Darcy was just an extremely good-looking girl kissing a moderately good-looking guy.

Yikes, she was starting to sound like a Nicholas Sparks novel. Gross.

When they parted this time, Loki’s touch lingered on her chin for an extra moment or two before he cleared his throat, sitting back properly. His lips were a little redder than normal and his right shirt sleeve was all creased and wrinkled from Darcy clutching at it. It made him look...more human almost, Darcy thought. Approachable. Attractive, even.

And damn, if that thought didn’t hit her like a brick to the side of the head.

“So, um,” Darcy paused; coughed a little to try and clear away the weird dry feeling in her throat, “that was good, right? Believable, I mean,” she blurted out quickly, clarifying, “not _good_ good, cause we’re not – that wasn’t – okay, shutting up now.”

Loki huffed out a quiet, single-note sound that might’ve been a laugh. “It was passable,” he confirmed, though there was something slightly off about his voice; a little less stiff and polished than Darcy was used to hearing from him.

“Good. Great. Fantastic.” She nodded a few extra times, pressing her hands together in her lap and fighting the warm, awkward feeling that prickled over her skin like crawling ants. Oh god, she was losing arctic cucumber status _fast_.

Avoiding her eyes, Loki cleared his throat again before gathering up their empty glasses with far more single-minded concentration than the task deserved. “Another drink?”

Darcy couldn’t answer fast enough. “God, yes.”

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, your eyes do not deceive you, it's a new chapter!! This took about 90 years to get out and I apologize for that, but there's a pile of ridiculous banter here (with a sprinkle of sexual tension too) so I hope that makes up for the wait :)

 

Their first big test came all too soon and before Darcy knew it, the weekend of their Odin-mandated trip to the family vacation house had arrived.

“Please, Jane? Please, please, pleeease?” Darcy pleaded into the phone, holding it in one hand while the other was busy cramming handfuls of clothing into the already overflowing suitcase sitting on her bed. It felt a little like stuffing a too-small Christmas turkey, but she needed to have outfit options, dammit. How was a fake wife supposed to fake impress her fake father-in-law without the right wardrobe for the job? Not to mention she had no idea how fancy all their evening dinners would be. Darcy was sure as hell not about to get caught in old, fraying sweatpants while everyone else was decked out to the nines.

“It’s going to look suspicious if you bring me along as your buffer,” Jane spoke through the phone, “and besides, I’ve barely had a chance to use the new lab yet – I can’t afford to lose a whole weekend of work right now.”

Darcy blew out a long breath.

Think of the trust fund, she reminded herself. All those sweet, sweet commas and zeroes.

“Fine,” she relented, “but can I at least borrow your pink sweater? The one that makes you look like a forty-five year old PTA mom?”

“Hey!”

“Because,” Darcy continued, stuffing another handful of socks into her suitcase, “it really fits the whole vibe I’m going for this weekend.”

“I’m probably going to regret asking this,” Jane said, sounding resigned to her fate already, “but what ‘vibe’ is that?”

“High maintenance Hamptons bitch with class out the ass,” Darcy answered without missing a beat.

Across the line, Jane huffed out a laugh. “I don’t know if I should be flattered or offended that that’s what you think of my style choices.”

“Only the pink sweater,” Darcy assured. “The other ninety-eight percent of the time you look like Bill Nye’s adorable hobo child.”

“Wow,” Jane deadpanned, “thanks.”

“It was a compliment!” Darcy insisted, temporarily abandoning her packing job and perching on the corner of the bed instead. “I did say adorable.”

“You also said hobo,” Jane pointed out.

Darcy shrugged even though Jane couldn’t see it. “Well, you do own a lot of plaid flannel considering you’re not a mountain top lumberjack or a professional bagpipe player.”

“Tartan,” Jane corrected.

Darcy blinked. “What?”

“Traditionally pipers wear tartan, not plaid.”

Darcy sighed, flopping backwards and making a face when she accidentally knocked the back of her head against one edge of the suitcase. “You’ve always gotta ruin my best one-liners with junk like _logic_ and _legitimate facts_ ,” she said, over-pronouncing the words with distaste, like someone might say _Kardashian_ or _hot dumpster smell_. “Why am I friends with you, again?”

“Well, I do have the adorable hobo thing working for me,” Jane answered. “Must be that.”

“Must be that,” Darcy agreed, before a balled-up pair of underwear rolled off the edge of the suitcase and plopped onto her face.

 

* * *

 

 

All things considered, day one of Extreme Torture Weekend wasn’t turning out to be quite as...well, _torture-y_ as Darcy expected.

...of course, that could just be the heated in-ground pool and unlimited quantities of fancy drinks and snacks talking.

“I feel like a rich divorcee,” Darcy said from her reclined position in a lounge chair by the pool’s edge, clad in a flowy cover-up and sunglasses, soaking up the sunshine while Loki sat a chair away, head bent and fully absorbed in some thick, boring-looking book.

Not bothering to look up, Loki pointed out, “Before long you will be.”

Settling her head back so she could watch the clouds lazily drift by overhead, Darcy let out a sigh that was somewhere between contentment and wistfulness. “Yep, all that’s missing is the hot, young pool boy for me to have a passionate yet short-lived affair with.”

Loki huffed, turning another page. “I’m not doing that.”

“Well obviously not.” Darcy rolled her eyes. “I did say hot and young, after all.”

Barely batting an eye, Loki replied in a bored, even tone, “If you’re looking to provoke a reaction, you are about to be sorely disappointed.”

“Aw.” Darcy frowned, playing up her disappointment, but not by much. Aside from the awesome food and cool digs, one of the main highlights of the weekend so far had been seeing exactly how far she could get under Loki’s skin. It was so fun watching his mouth go all angry-flat like a bad imitation of Oscar the Grouch. “Growing immune to my razor-sharp wit already, or are you just incredibly conceited?”

“Mostly the former. A bit of the latter.” Loki finally glanced up in order to raise both eyebrows at her, blatantly smirking as he added, “Also, you have been staring at my arms rather unsubtly all afternoon.”

Oh.

Shit.

“Well then wear a shirt that fits your stupid biceps,” Darcy grumbled mostly to herself, trying not to flush at having been caught looking. Sure he wasn’t jacked to infinity like Thor, but when he’d ditched his usual button-down for a more weekend-appropriate plain grey t-shirt, she’d been... surprised. Pleasantly. Like, _a lot_. Who would have guessed Mr. Perpetual Stick Up His Ass was actually packing some pretty impressive muscle?

“What’s that?” Loki’s smirk took on a slightly evil edge as he tipped his head in her direction. “You said I should remove my shirt entirely and take a swim in the pool?”

Darcy scoffed. “Nice try dude, but if anyone’s blowing minds in a wet bathing suit today, it’s me. I mean, _hello_ ,” she gestured to her torso, “I didn’t suffer through a whole month of Thirty Minute Abs: Extreme Burn to the Max not to break a few brains in a bikini.”

Obviously intrigued, Loki set his book to the side, giving her his full attention at last. “Is that a challenge, Darcy?”

“Actually yes,” her competitive side answered before her brain could catch up. “I think it is.”

“Fine,” Loki said, still staring directly at her.

“Fine,” Darcy echoed, weirdly unable to stop staring back. It was a dominance thing, she told herself, and had absolutely nothing to do with the bright glint of rivalry in Loki’s eyes or the way he was trying to force down the amused little half-smile that threatened to make his mouth tick up at the side. She _couldn’t_ be the first to break eye contact; she needed to establish herself as the alpha. That was totally a thing that worked on dogs, right? Maybe it was the same for husbands, too.

“Shall we, then?” Loki gestured to the pool, eyes not leaving Darcy’s face.

“We shall,” she agreed, trying to scoot her butt off the edge of her lounge chair without losing their impromptu staring contest.

There was one potentially disastrous moment where the bottom of her cover-up got all tangled up around her legs, but eventually Darcy was victorious and managed to get standing in one piece, still holding Loki’s eyes all the while, but the sweet taste of success was short-lived when Loki gracefully rose from his chair in one quick, easy motion, staring down at her with a smirk when Darcy had to immediately tilt her head way, _way_ back in order to keep meeting his eyes.

“What are you, like six foot fifty?” she muttered, awkwardly walking backwards towards the stairs at the corner of the pool while still keeping her neck craned a ridiculous amount.

“Around you it certainly feels like it,” Loki casually retorted. “Tell me, are all Lewises descendants of miniature tree goblins, or is that a particularly special quality only you possess?”

Tree goblin?

_Tree goblin?!_

“Okay, that’s it,” Darcy said calmly. “Get in the pool. I’m gonna drown you.”

Loki laughed – _laughed!_ – and kept advancing on her, forcing Darcy to shuffle backwards some more until she felt her elbow hit the side of the pool ladder.

“Ladies first.” Loki actually bowed a little, which should have been ridiculous but somehow he managed to make even that look cool and sophisticated, and ugh, didn’t that just make Darcy want to deck him even worse.

She arched an eyebrow. “Don’t you mean _goblins_ first?”

Loki smiled, all dumb and dazzling and annoyingly attractive. “Still stuck on that, are we?”

“I never forget when someone calls me short,” Darcy told him. “They go on my list of enemies to smite.”

“Ah,” Loki said, “but how can you smite them if you cannot reach them?”

Darcy glared at him, expression salty enough to brine an industrial-sized barrel of pickles. “Get in the fucking pool.”

 

* * *

 

Loki shirtless was...an experience.

Darcy forgot to kick her legs for a minute, and ended up inhaling a mouthful of gross pool water.

He swam like a natural-born athlete, all lithe power and stupid wet muscles slicing effortlessly through the water’s surface. And when he stopped, treading water with his hair all slicked back, chest visibly rising and falling from the exertion...well, that was something else entirely.

“I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you so quiet,” Loki commented, clearly amused as he made his way over to Darcy in two short breast strokes.  “Are you feeling well, Darcy?”

Tearing her eyes away from his...well, _everything_ , Darcy swallowed, schooled her face into a chill, decidedly un-shook expression, and replied, “Just peachy.”

“Really?” Loki floated closer, like a really hot shark sniffing out blood, or in this case, painfully embarrassing arousal. “Because you look a bit...flushed.”

“Must be the water,” she managed to get out, backing up a little when Loki continued to grow nearer and nearer.

When her back hit the side of the pool wall, Darcy swallowed. Nowhere else to go, unless she actually dove under and evaded him that way, but there were two main issues with that: one, Darcy had never been the type to run away from a confrontation, and two, her hair looked really good today so going full drowned poodle right now was definitely not an option. Besides, she wasn’t about to give Loki any more insult ammunition.

So she held her ground, chin raised and totally unflinching, even when Loki backed her up tight against the wall, effectively caging her in with one arm on either side of her.

Face to face, they stared each other down and Darcy hoped like hell that Loki couldn’t tell exactly how much her breathing had picked up, coming out quick and uneven, because aside from the quiet slosh of water around them, it was the only sound she could hear.

Sure enough, Loki’s eyes did dip to her mouth for an instant, but instead of hurling another insult he wet his own lips, and oh. Wow. He was looking at her like...like he might actually...but he wouldn’t, would he? They weren’t about to...

Loki inclined his head ever so slightly and Darcy’s lips parted on instinct.

Oh damn. Maybe they were. They were totally about to kiss, and at the moment, whatever part of Darcy’s brain that had not already been reduced to mush was very much okay with it.

She tipped her face up, released a shaky exhale as Loki’s nose brushed against hers, and then...

...then...

A throat cleared behind them, and they jumped apart like the other was on fire.

Feeling like her face was burning about three hundred degrees, Darcy whipped her head around and found a woman standing in the doorway. Judging from her no-nonsense bun and crisp white chef’s coat, Darcy assumed she had been sent to summon them for a very specific purpose.

“Mr. Odinson,” the woman said, and Darcy didn’t miss the way Loki tensed a little at the title, “your father has requested your presence in the main dining room. Dinner will be served shortly.”

“Yes.” Long gone was the teasing, amused tone Loki’d been using with Darcy; he was back to brisk and stiffly formal. “Thank you.”

The chef nodded in acknowledgement before turning and disappearing back through the doorway.

Well, that didn’t leave things feeling awkward at all.

Darcy chewed her lip, wondering how to break the sudden reappearance of ice between them, but before she could make some dumb pun or spit out a weird factoid (heck, she’d even settle for another goblin joke if it would get rid of that pinched, hard look around Loki’s eyes), he heaved a sigh, ran a hand through his wet hair, and looked over at Darcy with something like an apology, like resignation, in his expression.

And maybe inhaling that pool water had given her some kind of crazy fever but Darcy, for reasons unbeknownst to her, felt weirdly compelled to reach one hand out and lay it reassuringly on Loki’s forearm. So she did.

They simultaneously looked down at her hand for a moment, like they were both surprised by how it’d gotten there, before Loki looked back up, and it could have been her imagination or just a trick of the light, but when their eyes met this time, Darcy could have sworn some of that hard tension had eased from Loki’s face just a little.

“Stalemate?” He asked her, voice low and strangely soft.

“Stalemate,” Darcy agreed, breathless.

 

 


End file.
